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Prologue 

The following verses were originally composed for 
special occasions and intended for private use only, with¬ 
out any idea of their ever getting into print, much less of 
their being published. This accounts for the sameness of 
subject matter. 

Now that my superior has called upon me to collect 
them for print, I wish to state before doing so, that the 
first selection, Written in Gold , is not wholly original. In 
it there are two borrowed selections, viz., the words spoken 
by the “Spirit of the Day” and those by “Thought” and 
“Faith.” These I have adapted from the typed copy of a 
poem, whose author, unfortunately, I have never been able 
to discover. The remaining matter is, so far as I know, 
the result of my own poor, but best endeavor. 

Sr. M. H. 





































Dedicated to Rev. Mother Aloysia O. S. B. 

To her whose cheering word and fostering smile, 

Poor little lines, you owe your transient birth, 

We dedicate you now: in love's poetic style, 

Commit alike your flaws, and seeming worth. 

Go, little lines, and shed your timid light 

Along our Mother's steep and toilsome way; 

Make some short mile along her pathway bright: 

That century plant she nursed has bloomed to-day. 






















«* 




(Dontotia 


Written in Gold ........... i 

Reception tendered to Right Reverend Abbot Martin Veth 
on the Occasion of His Election as Abbot of St. 

Benedict's Monastery, Atchison, Kansas ... 23 

Here Among His Own To-Day ... 25 

Welcome of the State Flowers ..... 27 

The Birth of the Flowers ... 27 

Flowers by the Way .... 28 

Predestined . 32 

Bavaria . 33 

The Presentation . 34 

Five and Twenty Years . 35 

Jubilate! Jubilate! . 36 

List to the Bells . 38 

The Zephyrs of June ... 39 

Fourteen Centuries After . 41 

In This, the Gladdest of Seasons . 44 

Alma Mater's Jubilee .. 46 

Bell Jingle ............ 47 

To the Bell Tower ........... 48 

To the Tower ........... 49 

The Tower Speaks . 50 

The Bell ............. 



To M. S. S. A . 

On St. Martin's Day, 1921 


Fiftieth Anniversary ... 
Alma Mater's Jubilee 



Greetings to Rev. Mother Aloysia 0 . S. B.. 

World Peace .......... 

Commencement Day . 


56 

57 

58 





















































Valedictory ..... 59 

Golden Wedding Jubilee .. 60 

The Primitz Wreath .. 61 

Gleams from Passing Glories .. 62 

Ordination .............. 63 

Comfort . 64 

Sprays from Silver and Golden Days . 66 

After Fifty Years . 67 

Greetings .. 67 

Silver Jubilee . 68 

Waiting .. 68 

In the Sacred Heart . 79 

A Guiding Star . 71 

Why Shines the Sun so Bright To-Day? . 73 

u Providebit Dominus” . 77 

In Memoriam . . 80 

Parting Song .. 82 





























































































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“Mrittfn in <£nli>’’ 

Address on the Occasion of Rt. Rev. Abbot 
Innocent’s Golden Jubilee, May 18, 1916 

Wight Reverend Jubilarian, Reverend Fathers: 

^ With all the gladness of our hearts we thank you for 
the honor conferred upon us by your presence here on this 
happy occasion. This day and its glad events shall be 
indelibly impressed upon the memories of the fortunate 
class of 1916, there to form one of the brightest pages of the 
past. 

Half a century in the office of the holy priesthood is 
not an event of everyday occurrence; nor does the honor of 
taking part in the golden jubilee of a priest of God come into 
every life, and we realize our exceptional privilege. 

If— 

"Lives of great men all remind us, 

We can make our lives sublime” 

what must be the salutary, the inspiring influence of the life 
of the priest of God, particularly when that priest is one 
under the light of whose devoted life many of us have grown 
from infancy. 

The consideration of the many graces and blessings of 
which we ourselves are the recipients; the knowledge that 
we owe all these to the sacred office of the priesthood, en- 








ables us to comprehend to some extent both the sanctity of 
that holy office and the grandeur of our opportunities; 
since it is our favored lot to have among us, not a priest 
only, but the revered Father of many priests. 

We congratulate you, Rt. Rev. Jubilarian, on this fif¬ 
tieth anniversary of your ordination to the holy priesthood. 
What countless, what eternal blessings may not a single 
function of that holy calling mean! Then to think of those 
of a whole year—of fifty years! What a thought! 

We realize our utter inability to rise to any worthy con¬ 
ception of its grandeur; yet the very effort to do so will 
make us better, and we congratulate ourselves upon our 
golden opportunity. 

And now, Rt. Rev. Jubilarian, we ask your kind forbear¬ 
ance with our best effort to give some worthy expression 
to what is our heartfelt conviction. However unsuccessful 
the result, we are upheld by the thought that, “not failure 
but low aim is crime.’* And our aim is high. 

We wish, Rt. Rev. Jubilarian, to win your approving 
smile and your priestly benediction. 


®l?e Patj 

Characters and Costumes 

Angel of the Day —Loose flowing white robe, sashed and 
draped with white and spangles. She wears small gold 
crown and carries a tambourine. 

Fancy —Same as above, except that the colors of the robe 
are reversed. She carries a wand. 

Childhood Years —Little girls in pure white trimmed in 
gold tinsel and with tinsel head bands. Each bears a tall 
Easter lily, except the leader, who carries a banner. 













3 



Boyhood Years —Larger girls, costumed as are Childhood 
Years, but bearing tall American Beauty roses instead of 
lilies. 

Scholastic Years —High School students. Costume same 
as other Years , except that they bear palm branches instead 
of flowers. 

Angel of Ordination —All in pure white. She is accom¬ 
panied by the brides of Primitz and Silver Years, the former 
in pure white, wearing bridal wreath and veil and carrying 
Primitz wreath on cushion. 

The Bride of the Silver Jubilee Year is also in white, but 
heavily trimmed in silver, wearing silver crown. 

Guardian Angel —Usual costume of white, wings, etc. 

Faith —Also white robe with large gold cross on breast 
and crown; slight gold border on vesture. 

Thought —Pure, plain, white robe draped in gold. 

Scribe of Time —Dressed according to Hoffman’s Child 
Christ Among the Doctors. 

Choir —All in white with gold trimmings. 

Synopsis 

The Spirit of the Day sends Fancy to the palace of Time 
to borrow the records of most lasting worth with which to 
grace the Jubilee Feast. In response come the Jubilarian’s 
childhood, boyhood, and scholastic years, each bearing its 
own record, concluding with Ordination. 

Fancy again calls on Time for further report. The 
Scribe of Time, returns bringing as witnesses the three brides 
of Primitz, Silver, and Golden years. In presence of all, 
the scribe declares the matter beyond his jurisdiction, and 
pertaining to a higher court. Faith procures an angel to 
discourse on the dignity and lasting worth of the priestly 
office and ministrations. 

The scribe and the angel, then, upon a scroll on the wall, 
write the name of the Rt. Rev. Jubilarian, the Years all 
furnishing the golden letters. 





HUSH! 

■ 1 


“Written in (&oU»” 

Programme 

Enter Spirit of the Day. 

Spirit of the Day 

Out of the May of this gladsome year, 

Out of its sunshine soft and clear, 

Cometh a sweet melodious sound, 

Gathering strength on its onward bound; 
Gathering bloom on its fragrant wing, 

As the Jubilee chimes in the belfry swing. 

And the years come back from their silent urns, 
Like the joyous waves when the tide returns 
To break once more on the shores of time 
With a rapturous lay and a song sublime. 

Enter Fancy. 

Come, Fair Fancy, hie thee away 
To the distant palace of Father Time. 

Bring hither the record of things that last, 

That are worthy a place in this feast sublime. 
Fancy retires, but returns without loss of time. 


Fancy 

Sweet Spirit, the gentle Time returns 
The fair young years from their golden urns. 
I see them now, as they trip along, 

Their part to take in our Jubilee song. 


Spirit of the Day 

’T is well, for no sweeter strain is sung 
Than the strain of childhood’s guileless tongue. 

Music, to which Lily bearers trip in and take their places , the 
leader bearing banner. 





















Leader of Childhood Years 

What show can little people stand 
In keeping of a feast so grand? 

Our elders would have left us out, 

Had we not urged our reasons stout, 
Why we should have a word to say 
E’en on Golden Jubilee Day. 

Without the spring of childhood gay, 
There ne’er would be the bloom of May. 
Without the bloom of smiling May 
There would not be this Jubilee Day. 

Hence we are here, respect to pay 
To priest revered, in childish way. 

We promise you, Right Rev’rend Guest, 
We’ll do our very, very best. 

Childhood Years 

Seven lilies, pure and white— 

Nurtured in celestial light, 

Scented with a perfume rare— 
Emblems of a childhood fair, 

Lend their graces, sweet, of May, 

To the feast we keep to-day. 

— 2 — 

Seven little maidens here, 

Each impersonates a year. 

Striving thus with loving art, 

To recall the noble part 
Childhood of a long-past May 
Plays in this our festal day. 

3 

In these seven blissful years, 
Angel-guarded, free from fears, 







Deep in fruitful soil all vernal, 

Sank the seed of life eternal; 
Germinating there it lay 
To furnish this our feast of May. 

— 4 — 

Saving waters’ cleansing stream, 

Fit thy soul for heavenly beam. 

Entered in, the heavenly Dove, 

Fanned therein the flame of love. 

’T is that same fire of lovely May 
That lights our joyous feast to-day. 

— 5 — 

Confirmation’s gifted oil 
Sealed thee for a life of toil, 
Strengthened thee for life’s hard load, 

On a steep, uneven road. 

Unwith’ring May flowers strew the way 
From that now far distant day. 

— 6 — 

Seven years of guileless youth; 

Whisp’rings from the Source of Truth; 
Lights and graces—Love eternal, 

Fitting thee for call supernal 
O’er thy youthful soul held sway, 

And brought this blissful feast of May. 

— 7 — 

But childhood fair cannot unfold 
Leaving a mother’s part untold. 

’Twas she that fed faith’s early ray, 

And taught thy infant lips to pray. 

An angel mother smiles to-day 
Upon our joyous feast of May. 











7 


m 




All 

Childhood fair and lily flower, 

Lend their graces to this hour. 

Well loved Abbot Guide heaven-lent, 

Lilies stand for— Innocent. 

And of all the flowers of May, 

Seem fittest for our gift to-day. 

Lily bearers trip off to rear , while Rosebuds enter and occupy 
front. 

Boyhood Years 

— i — 

Rosebuds opening, speak of Heaven, 

Symbolize a mystic seven— 

Boyhood years, and schoolday time— 

Gateway to these heights sublime. 

Praise we God’s mysterious ways, 

For the graces of those days. 

Treasures, truly, then, were thine— 

Sevenfold gifts of Love Divine. 

~3 — 

Healing waters’ saving flood, 

Cleansing in the Precious Blood— 

Sweet Communion with thy Lord, 

Seated at the sacred board. 

Oh, those days with treasures fraught! 

And the marvels grace has wrought. 

— 4 — 

Science nobly did her part, 

Training hand, and head, and heart. 

Showed thee science higher still, 

Worthy of thy utmost skill; 

Pointing to the starry sky, 

Showed thee living Source of Joy. 




— 5 — 

Henceforth bent, thy ardent soul 
Eager sought her rightful goal. 

Lofty thought, and musings high, 

Taught thy youthful soul to fly. 

— 6 — 

Lavish grace is not outdone, 

And vocation high is won, 

Thy young heart to God is given 
E’er has closed this second seven. 

__ 7 _ 

Childhood pure and rosebuds rare, 

Blend to form a picture fair. 

Hence we bring this gift to thee 
On thy Golden Jubilee. 

Rosebuds and Lilies 

Rosebud rare and lily white, 

Gladly now their charms unite, 

Tribute sweet to pay to thee 
On thy Golden Jubilee. 

Music , to which Rosebuds trip to rear of Lilies , while the 
next group of years enter demurely and occupy front. 

Scholastic Years 

— i — 

Lofty contemplation’s ladder 
Lured thy fearless feet to climb, 

Far beyond life’s fleeting pleasures 
There to dwell on themes sublime. 

Far below, lay earth’s attractions, 

Buried now the things of time. 





epmtm 

9 


- 2 - 

Frowning heights and yawning gorges 

Held no terrors then for thee. 

Benedict’s mountain cave was sweeter 

Than the wealth of land or sea. 

Sweeter e’en than love’s communings 

Ties of home that may not be. 


Flowers of earth no longer flourish 

In that altitude sublime. 

Naught is heard save mountain music, 

And the whispering of the pine. 

All is silent, sweet communing 
’Twixt thy Maker’s soul and thine. 


' 4 ‘ 

Eighteen summers scarce have brightened 

O’er thy boyhood’s tranquil skies, 

E’er eternal pledges hold thee 

Sweetly bound by threefold ties. 

Constant will and pure affection, 

Every earthly hope defies. 


5 

Oh, the mystic secrets whispered, 

In those hidden happy years! 

Oh, the blissful sweet communings, 

Moistened oft with dew of tears, 

As the Master’s bitter Passion, 

Pitying soul enraptured hears. 

6 

v -?■■&-* j — 

.. . 

All the while thy wistful spirit, 

Eager bent is stretching on 

To a day which is thy pole star, 

Towards which all affections run. 








xo 


Hand, and head, and heart, are striving, 

Till that destined goal is won. 

— 1 — 

Time rolls on with tranquil motion, 

'Neath monastic sky serene. 

While a vision beatific, 

Lends enchantment to the scene. 

Care, and labor, study, prayer, 

Feel the sanctifying presence 
Of enraptured purpose there. 

Years move into semicircle f form tableau , the little brides in 
center, while the following is spoken: 

Angel of Ordination 

Lo! and now the solemn stillness, 

All with rapturous feeling thrills. 

While a light from out the heavens, 

All the mount with glory fills; 

And upon the awful silence, 

Breaks a voice from out the cloud; 

“Priest of God!” Tu es sacerdos , 

Eden’s promise is fulfilled. 

From the sea, and from the mountain, 

From the cloud wreaths overhead, 

From the limpid lake far inland 
Rises chorus angel-led, 

Singing Ave! Jubilate! 

Eden’s promise is fulfilled. 

SONG: Jubilate Deo. After chorus all move to rear of stage 
while Spirit of the Day and Fancy come forward. 










II 


Spirit of the Day 


List to the bells from their airy towers, 
Scattering joy like the springtime flowers, 
Tokens and memories of the day, 

In the silvery twilight, far away, 

When a priest first stood at the altar shrine, 
His brow fresh marked with a seal divine; 
His heart enriched with a priestly dower; 
His hands endowed with a priestly power; 
And he thus went forth with a sacred claim 
To do his work in the Master’s name. 


Music 


Fancy 


Sweet spirit, I pray thee, bid me call 
Pale Thought to partake in our festal cheer; 
Her grave refrain will lend a grace 
To the merry note of our Jubilee year. 

My pennons quiver, to soar and fly 
At thought of her musings on theme so high. 



Spirit of the Day 


Much sweetness, kind sister, your words display, 
And fair Thought is a welcome guest to me; 

But her plaintive strain would ill accord 


With the cheerful notes of our festive glee. 

If in this glad choir the grave maid would sing, 


Her sister Faith you must also bring. 
Together they well may sing and play, 

For Faith is of Thought the guide and stay. 




















12 


Fancy trips out and returns bringing Thought, who enters, 
leaning upon the arm of Faith. 

Thought 

What are these dim folded years? 

These short, dim cycles of a fleeting past? 

Brief records of thy woven hopes and fears; 

Sharp griefs, or joys too beautiful to last. 

Gleam they with merit, rich like precious ore? 

And will they crown thee, in the evermore? 

“Time is our share of God’s eternity!’’ 

Thy office in His ritual comes from Heaven, 

It has no share in time; ’t is unbound, free, 

Its seal in David’s royal music given. 

Ah! will these years anointed be thy crown, 

When thou art called to lay thine armor down? 

Canst call to mind the morning when thou knelt 
Before the altar where God’s glory dwelt? 

What awe then thrilled thee through the mystic rite 
That made thee sacred in the angels’ sight! 

Dost mind thee how thy very soul was bowed, 

When first the consecrating words thou saidst aloud? 
Dost mind the chrism’s touch upon thy palms? 

The wondrous meaning of thy bound-up hands? 

Half a century of years! How the time rolls by! 
Measuring its rapid flight unceasingly. 

Toil has been thine, and heaviness of heart, 

So much to do! and thou so small a part; 

Souls lost and fainting! evils still abroad! 

Small, poor, and scant, the harvest of the Lord! 







13 


Faith 

Nay! Sister, ’tis not so; one rescued soul counts more 
In Heaven’s sight than nation’s wealth and lore! 

And who can count the souls that thou hast won? 

Or who can count the marvels thou hast done? 

What wealth of sacramental power outpoured, 

Thou fervent minister of Christ the Lord! 

Thy words, thy every step, thy sacred hands 
Uplifted where the holy altar stands. 

Half a century of treasures! half a century of years of grace, 
Made glorious by the light of Jesus’ face. 

And then thy heavenly crown! thy dazzling throne! 
The beauteous radiance of the Lamb thereon! 

What rills of light will bathe thy anointed palms! 
What rapturous thanksgiving mark thy psalms! 

And most thy bliss, when every joy will show 
Some soul thou savedst here in toil below. 




Faith and Thought retire , while music changes , as Fancy 
again comes forward and in mournful tone addresses 
the Spirit of the Day. 


Fancy 


Sweet Spirit, a voice seems ever near, 

Dimming the light of the festive cheer, 

Chanting over, and over again, 

In doleful tones, this woeful strain: 

“We can but guess of the verdant dells, 

Till the ripened ear of the harvest tells. 

For the blight oft breathes o’er the fields of May 
Stealing their bloom ere the harvest day. 

The rose leaf dies ere the day is past; 

Beauty is changeful; nothing will last.” 






Spirit of the Day 

Out of the ashes of ages past, 

Read we the names of things that last. 

Return once more to the halls of time 
Bring back the record of manhood’s prime. 

Fair though the script on the youthful page, 

’T is doubly bright, when illumed by age. 

Fancy again retires and returns with the Scribe of Time. 


Scribe of Time 

I thank you, kind friends for calling on me, 

A guest at this gladsome feast to be. 

’T is seldom I’m called on to use my pen 
On theme so fair, mid the haunts of men. 

As to things that last, I must confess, 

The best I can give is but a guess. 

I have notes of things that were meant to last 
Till the angel of doom blows the trumpet blast; 
They’re now so dimmed by the breath of fate, 

That Time's clerk, himself, cannot find their date. 
We measure all things by the scale of time, 

And that’s leagues too short for affairs sublime. 

This matter pertains to a longer year, 

And calls for a clerk from a higher sphere. 

Meanwhile ’twill not be labor lost, 

To study this worthy page of the past. 

Though the light is dim, and the parchment old, 

’T is legible still for ’tis written in gold. 

All gather around the Scribe and read from the scroll. Spirit 
of the Day stands back, dejected. Faith approaches to 
comfort her. 





















15 


Sad heart, be not dismayed at arduous task; 

My Master kind, has promised all I ask. 

I’ll gladly do this errand, sweet, of love, 

And sue for angel from the court above. 

Ere you have scanned this transient record here, 
I’ll vouch for that of the Eternal Year. 

Faith departs, returns with Guardian Angel. 

% 

Spirit of the Day 

Oh, what a boon to be of Faith possessed! 

What failure now were ours, had she not been a guest! 


Guardian Angel 




The peace of God, sweet friends, be to all here, 
Assembled for this glad Jubilee year! 

Fear not, dear Spirit, nor tremble, little Years ; 

Your guileless hearts to Heaven this day endears. 
Simplicity of heart makes angels smile, 

And gratitude has won the grace of God erewhile. 
The query you have put, may well perplex 
The hoary sage of time, and his recorder vex. 

As to the lineage of the priesthood dear, 

Its seal is lasting as the eternal year. 

Its handiwork endures when time is past; 

Its office, ministrations, all, are things that last. 

Yea, tho the man be dead, the priest lives on, 

In the glad number of the souls he’s won, 

Making earth’s peace, enhancing Heaven’s bliss. 

What estimates may gauge the worth of such a life as this ? 







And yet, sweet friends, be not amazed nor fear, 

Tho’ things eternal find no reckoning here— 

Tho’ time can plac^no estimate on worth, 

Yet worth, its claim may trace, to time on earth. 

But converse such, for human mind is high; 

Nor would I stay the torrent of your joy; 

Since earth cannot ascend to Heaven’s bliss, 

Heaven stoops to earth on such a day as this. 

And now, your rapture further to enhance, 

I’ll give you of our heavenly court a glance. 

Know that angelic power, with priest’s cannot compare, 
Nor highest seraph, priestly ministration dare. 

We revel in the light of His eternal ray, 

Who, here on earth, does this your priest obey. 

The worth of priestly rite, is to angelic mind sublime, 
Mystery as deep, as to the Scribe of Time. 

Let grateful praise resound throughout your feast, 
And reverence your Maker in your priest. 

Remember, “God is love," 


Spirit of the Day 

Our grateful thanks, dear angel, for this heavenly lore, 
Its content sweet we’ll ponder o’er and o’er. 


Fancy 

And now in keeping with the Spirit of the Day 
We call upon the Scribe of Time to say 
How well, how nobly, with how brave a heart, 
Our honored Jubilarian here has done his part. 
Recital fair, gives grateful love a vent, 

And time lends glory to a life well spent. 













7 




Scribe of Time 


How well, how nobly he’s done his part, 

With steadfast will and with kindly heart, 
With the tender love and the ardent zeal 
That none but the priest of God can feel, 
The thousands of grateful hearts attest, 

Who rise to-day to call him blest. 

All 

Blest in the flock to his keeping given, 

Blest in the souls he has trained for Heaven. 

Angel 

Blest, thrice blest in the great: “Well Done,” 
That seems from the azure sky to come. 

All 

Blessings on him, who has sown broadcast, 
Blessings and grace through a golden past. 


Fancy 

Now list to the strains of angelic choirs, 

Bending to earth as they string their lyres. 
Listening intent to catch the lay 
Our jubilant hearts send up to-day. 

While voices imped with the wings of love, 

§ Sound back the echo to Heaven above. 

Telling the earth and telling the sea 
This is a glorious jubilee. 

Angel 

Hark! the Master’s plaudit from Heaven’s high spheres, 
Blessing and crowning these fifty years. 


mi 






For Oh, what a wealth do those years unfold, 

From silvery morn to sunset gold. 

Years 

And our hearts go out on the waves of song, 

In the might of their joy as they sweep along, 

Telling the earth and telling the sea, 

This is our Abbot’s jubilee. 

Scribe of Time 

And now, kind friends, lest I be to blame, 

Permit me a word in my master’s name. 

For, tho’ Time cannot count the value of worth, 

Yet Time is the worthiest thing on earth. 

Tho’ Time cannot discourse on bliss sublime, 

Yet that bliss you can buy with an atom of time, 

And if kind Time had not said “Yea,” 

We could not have had this Jubilee Day. 

Now, since ’t is custom honored by Time, 

To make a record of things sublime, 

The Years will each now contribute her mite, 

Our Jubilarian’s name to write. 

We’ve a record in silver, and one in white, 

The same we now in gold will write. 

Years all come forward , each bringing a golden letter; they 
march after the Angel and the Scribe to rear of stage, 
where the name is written upon open scroll. 

Spirit of the Day 

O Priest of God, ’neath thy arch of years, 

How grand, how glorious, thy life appears. 

And while memory points to that hallowed past, 
Where the tender seeds which thy hand has cast, 





Have struck deep root in the tender soil, 

To reward thy zeal and thy priestly toil, 

The future largely of promise tells, 

When the fruit shall wave in the ripened dells, 

When the harvest shall gleam like a sea of gold, 

And Heaven reward thee a hundred fold. 

Lily and Rosebud Years form lines through center of stage, 
then march back to throne, leaving crown bearers to pass 
forward between the ranks and present crown. Bride of 
Golden Years recites the following lines: 

Bride of Golden Year 

Children of the earth, 

Angels from the sky, 

Join to-day in singing 

Praise to God on high. 

May the crown we offer, 

Loving promise be, 

Of the crown of glory 

In Heaven awaiting thee. 


CHORUS—Praise the Lord . 



i: 

































©tbtr Btrata 

































23 


Kmpttan 

Tendered to the Right Reverend Abbot Martin Veth 
on the Occasion of His Election as Abbot 
of St. Benedict’s Monastery, 

Atchison, Kansas 

Hail, Our Abbot Hail!.Weigand 

Students 

Address— 

j^Ear Right Reverend Abbot, Reverend Fathers: 

There have been many events of interest and of pride 
to the Students of Mt. St. Scholastica’s but, to-day, we feel 
that we have no cause to envy any previous class, nor any 
class to come. None of them can boast the honor we enjoy 
to-day—the honor of welcoming in as Abbot of St. Bene¬ 
dict’s, the kind Instructor and Spiritual Guide of our school- 
day life here at Mt. St. Scholastica’s. 

A thousand welcomes, then, Right Reverend Father 
Abbot, from your grateful children assembled here, and from 
the many more who would gladly join us if they could. 
With all our hearts we congratulate you upon the great 
dignity to which you have been raised. It contains a 
twofold honor, for your elevation to the abbatial chair is 
the gift of those who know you best—the Reverend Fathers 
of your community, among whom you have spent your 
schooldays as well as those of your religious and priestly 
career. What an honor to be the choice of so noble a body 
of religious men! 

We are presumptuous enough, in all humility, to commend 
their choice. We feel certain that the interests of St. 
Benedict’s will be safe in the hands of one who so faithfully 



discharged the more lowly, if not less arduous duties of 
Chaplain and Spiritual Guide to us, mere thoughtless Con¬ 
vent girls. 

We take this occasion, dear Right Reverend Father 
Abbot, to thank you for all you have done for us. May God 
bless and repay you a thousand fold. We, of ourselves, can 
never make a worthy return, but we promise to draw gene¬ 
rously on the unfailing bank of our Heavenly Father in your 
favor. 

We realize, Right Reverend Father, that there is no 
earthly crown without its thorns, no reward without labor, 
no honor without responsibility. Your dignity is great; so 
must your burden be. Right gladly would we share its 
weight, but it is beyond our power to lighten. Yet, may not 
even our poor prayers help you to bear it joyfully, to the 
glory of God and the good of religion? 

Then, too, dear Right Reverend Father Abbot, you have 
faithful brethren, and loyal loving sons, who with stout 
hearts and willing hands will ease your cares and cheer and 
brighten your arduous way. The grateful prayers of the 
happy inmates of Mt. St. Scholastica’s shall always accom¬ 
pany you, for we can never forget what you have been to us. 
And just here we must confess, a selfish thought creeps in 
to mar our rejoicing, for as usual, “there is a drop of sorrow 
in every cup of joy.” And now our own reason tells us that 
you can never be to us again what you have been in the 
beautiful past. We recall with regret the single annual 
visit of St. Benedict to his saintly sister, Scholastica. 

Before parting then, dear Right Reverend Father Abbot, 
we beg you to remember that we, your children, are far 
from being saintly. We entreat you then to imitate the 
gentle zeal of “Father Martin” rather than the rigorous 
austerity of your holy Founder. 







25 


We hope to see you as often as your time will permit. 
Your very presence will be an inspiration. You have 
already taught us that perfection’s mount is “such that still, 
the more we climb, the less we find it ill.” May we, in time, 
“pass from the holy wave, regenerate, pure and made apt 
for mounting to the stars.” 

Here Among His Own To-day 

Ode of Tribute 

Nor chill December’s sullen sky, 

Nor Advent’s purple hue, 

Can cloud the sunshine of our joy 
Our rapturous strain subdue. 

For here among his own to-day 

Our kind Instructor ’s throned; 

Successor of St. Benedict 

By grateful children owned. 

But loftier throne, within our hearts, 

A grateful love uprears— 

A love that springs from heavenly things 
And will outlive the years. 

This throne is built of purest pearl, 

Of gold well tried and true— 

The grateful love of grateful hearts 
For service given by you. 

You’ve taught our faltering feet to climb 
The Blessed “Mount that heals;” 

To shun temptation’s siren snare, 

Which peace and virtue steals. 

The “land whereon no shadow falls” 

You’ve shown to us in vision , 






Our earthly senses have regaled, 

With sights and sounds Elysian. 

Now, what return can children make 
For favors so unceasing? 

And yet our hearts would gladly bring 
The gift to you most pleasing. 

We fain would strew with fairest flowers 
The way your feet must tend; 

The burdens of your state to bear, 

The heavenly powers would send. 


But here, Right Reverend Abbot, 

We hear thee answer, “Nay; 

The flowery path of pleasure, 

Leads not the Heavenward way.” 

We know that thou wilt follow 
The steps thy Savior trod; 

That trials will await thee— 

They did not spare thy God. 


May prayer, Right Reverend Abbot, 
An angel’s comfort bring— 
When storm clouds gather round thee, 

May angels louder sing. 

« 

Within the sweet “celestial rose’’ 

Mayst thou in Heaven be found, 
And on the petals at thy feet, 

Thy children all around. 


The glad eternal years will be 
For us, too short a day, 

Thy ardent zeal and loving care 
To worthily repay. 


mm 





















27 


Welcome to the State Flowers and 
Presentation of Gifts 

(Representatives of the States having Students in attendance 
during the present year.) 

Right Reverend Father Abbot— 

Sunflower and Violet, 

Goldenrod and Cactus, 

Wild Rose and Columbine 

And Sweet Apple Blossom, 

Wild Rose and Iris 

And Goldenrod again. 

All are here to greet you, 

On this blessed day 
May its memory brighten, 

As the leaves of time decay. 

i 

The Birth of the Flowers 

When God in His anger closed the gate 
Of Eden’s peaceful bowers, 

Our exiled Parents, when all too late, 

Lamented the vanished hours. 

Poor earth felt shamed in her weedy gown, 

And the hot tears fell in showers; 

When God in love sent an angel down 

And he decked the earth with flowers. 

A smile soon shone on fair Nature’s face, 

And she fondly gazed on high; 

For God had pardoned the human race, 

Had heard its penitent cry. 

Our Father above had framed a tongue, 

To be read in every land; 



A tongue that would please both old and young, 
And that all could understand. 

The road may be long, and the steep hill nigh, 
And sorrow may fill the hour; 

But there’s never a pathway low or high 
But it has some native flower. 

The seasons of life are marked by flowers, 

Its scenes whether grave or gay, 

From the birth of the race in Eden’s bower 
To this thrice, thrice happy day. 

From every state we have culled a spray, 

The fairest of all in the dell, 

And we humbly hope that our blossoms may 
Reveal what no words can tell. 

Flowers by the Way 

KANSAS 

Steep is the pathway of life so they say, 

Heavy the burdens of duty and care— 

Cheerily still, let us clamber up hill, 

With an eye for the flowers by the way. 

Sunflowers tall from the roadside call; 

Violets sweet, blooming here at our feet, 

Tell of the love of our Father above, 

Bringing a message of comfort to all. 

Sunflowers bright, look to the light, 

Greeting the Source of their Being above; 

Eyes upon high; hands to the sky; 

Smile fixed for aye on that source of delight. 

Sunflowers gay, as they nod by the way 

Whisper a message of courage and cheer; 




29 


Look to the Sun, and the victory ’s won! 

Crowned with the blossoms that grew by the way. 


The Violet 
ILLINOIS 
Violet of Illinois, 

Comes in joy to greet, 

And to lay her humble gift 
Softly at your feet. 

Illinois’ flower is poor and meek, 
And of modest hue; 

May her fragrance pure and sweet 
Bring new joy to you. 

Violet has an offering, 

Not too poor for kings. 

Hers the favorite virtue is, 

Of the King of Kings. 

Goldenrod 

MISSOURI and NEBRASKA 

The Goldenrod grows by the wayside 
So graceful and pleasant to view, 
That Missouri its blossom has chosen 
As her emblem of greeting to you. 

Nebraska too, the Goldenrod 
Has chosen as her flower 
And she has culled its fairest plumes, 
To grace this happy hour. 


As the beautiful goldenrod perfumes the air 
May our lives breathe forever the incense of prayer. 









30 


Cactus 

MEXICO 

Far from distant Mexico, 

Comes the Cactus’ greeting, 

And, though pressed by thorny crown, 
Grateful strains repeating. 

From the arid, burning soil, 

Springs my stem all vernal; 

May the thorny crown of care, 

Blossom into joys eternal. 

Wild Rose 
IOWA 

Out of the brambles that grow by the way 

Calls the Wild Rose with the sweet breath of May; 

List to the lay of this beautiful flower, 

Teaching a lesson of wisdom and power. 

Out of the sadness and anguish and woe, 

Out of the burdens of care that we know, 

Out of the shadows that darken life’s way, 

Out of the failure that tries us to-day, 

Cometh at last, the assurance so blest— 

It has come from the Hand of the One who knows best. 
This thought like the wild rose that brightens the road, 
Will sweeten life’s sorrows and lighten its load. 

Columbine 

COLORADO 

Hark! the bright bells! 

As the wind tells; 

Colorado has come to the feast! 








Columbine bells 
Call from the dells, 

As the star called the Kings from the East. 
Let the bells ring! 

And the choir sing! 

Glory to God for the grace He has given! 
hong may our Abbot live! 

Glory and praise, to give 

To our bountiful Father in heaven! 

Apple Blossom 

ARKANSAS 

Arkansas has lovely flowers, 

Rich, and velvet dressed; 

Yet she chose the Apple Bloom 
Loveliest and best. 

And to-day she sends me here, 

From her fruitful crest, 

Arkansas’ respects to pay 
To Right Reverend Guest. 

My fruits, once a source of temptation, 
Now serve a reminder to be— 

A pledge of God’s tender compassion 
Which came to the world through me. 


The Iris 

TOURS 

From St. Martin’s Land I come to-day, 

Bearing the beautiful Iris gay. 

’T is the pledge of your Patron’s loving care 
And your grateful children’s fervent prayer. 

May the Saint to whom you have thrice been given, 















32 


Guide you safe through life till you meet in Heaven. 
But ever, Right Reverend Abbot, we plead, 

Remember the wants of poor souls in need; 

And lovingly, over us, as we go, 

Thy beautiful mantle of mercy throw. 

Predestined 

Long years ago, the story fair is told 
Of how in far Judea’s holy land, 

God reared the patriarch Abraham to be 
The father of a chosen progeny. 

In later years a story not less fair we tell 

Of how, in fond Bavaria’s Christian land, 

A gentle youth was called, for purpose still more high 
To be the father of a still more favored band. 

Like the great Patriarch chosen of the Lord 

He too, was called to dwell in foreign clime, 

Where customs strange, and seasons rude would try, 
And fit his soul for molding by the hand Divine. 

The New World’s bitter winds and manners cold 
Did not dismay this brave and generous soul. 
Chance, whether good or ill, but served to urge 

His ardent will the more towards wished-for goal. 

Celestial forces high, had made this soul their mark, 

And stronger currents than earth’s passions rude, 
Were deep at work within that youthful heart; 

Nor ceased, till it was drawn to solitude. 

Within the silent cloister’s sacred pale, 

The peaceful years sped noiseless as the foam 
That decks Atlantic’s restless wave, and bore 
The prayerful student off to Rome. 



33 


Oh, sainted memories of those blissful years 

Passed at the shrine of sacred history’s fount! 

To pen more skillful than ours we leave 

The glorious task, those marvels to recount. 

Suffice to say, this youth returned a priest 

Crowned now with science, and with learning bright, 

Prepared to toil for souls within the vineyard fair, 

To bring to darkened souls the Heavenly light. 

Then Oh! the grace of Providence Divine, 

Shone o’er our favored spot; 

And to his zealous care did tenderly commit 

Our favored vineyard’s happy, happy lot. 

For years we’ve shared his ministrations kind, 

Nor can we soon those happy years forget; 

Their memory fond will ever hold its place, 

Till suns eternal set. 

Bavaria 

Fair Bavaria, mountain bounded 
Raise thy banner white and blue. 

To! thy Christian fame hath sounded 
O’er Atlantic’s sullen hue. 

High above thy banner sainted 
Towers the cross, Salvation’s Tree, 

And upon its lofty branches 
Blooms the “Flower of Life” to be. 

God of Love, how much we owe Thee 
For the gently guiding hand, 

Thou hast in Thy mercy sent us, 

From the far Bavarian land. 

(Here three students in white , kneeling at the abbatial throne 9 
present the gifts — slippers , gloves, biretta and alb .) 








34 


The Presentation 

First Student: 

On thy feast, Right Reverend Abbot, 
Happy hearts their homage bring, 
Heavenly choirs with earth’s uniting 
In a joyful chorus sing. 

Second Student: 

Thou hast gladly labored for us; 

Spared not feet nor hands nor head, 
That thy children might be nourished 
Daily with the Heavenly Bread. 

All: 

We, thy children, humbly offer 

Gifts for head and hands and feet, 
And we beg thee to remember us 
Before God’s mercy seat. 

“Glory to God’’ (Messiah). 


Handel 
































a«ii (Htuptriy ffeara 


JjEar Reverend Jubilarian;* 

Five and twenty years have silvered 
Thy fair primitz wreath of white. 
God alone can count the jewels 
In thy crown of silver bright. 

On thy feast while bells are ringing 
And the hearts of all are gay, 
High in Heaven, reunited, 

Parents fond rejoice to-day 
O’er the treasures thou hast garnered, 
In these five and twenty years, 
Treasures that will brighten ever 
Endless through eternal years. 


"Written on the occasion of the Silver Jubilee of Rev. Father Matthias 
Stein, O.S.B. 

































36 


StabUat?! 3lubilatel 

^Ubilate! Jubilate! 

Reverend Father,* loved and dear, 
We are happy thus to greet you 
On your Silver Jubilee year. 

Yes, your kindness long has won us 
And your zeal full well we know, 
Since for years you’ve labored for us 
Seeds of Faith and love to sow. 

We would thank you, Reverend Father, 
But you labor for our Lord, 

And the gratitude of creatures 
Is at best a poor reward. 

Yet those many deeds of kindness, 
Shown to us for Jesus’ sake, 

Loudly call for recognition 

And we some return must make. 

But ’tis here our spirits sadden 
As we feel our poor estate, 

Blest with nothing that is worthy 
Of this glorious day and date. 

In our poverty we hasten 

To the Father of the poor, 

He will hear our fond petition 

Grant us treasures which endure. 


*Written on the occasion of the Silver 
thias Stein, June, 1921. 


Jubilee of Rev. Father Mat- 


wmmm 







When before the altar kneeling 
We our hidden God adore, 

We will beg that loving Savior 
On you choicest gifts to pour. 

We will pray Him then to hide you 
Deep within His wounded side, 

And there, save from every danger, 

May you evermore abide. 

Oh, may He who feeds the sparrow 
And who hears the ravens’ cry, 

Grant your every fond petition 

For you bring Him from on High— 

Here to feed His falt’ring children 
Daily on the Heavenly Bread, 

While adoring angels wonder 

At the sacred words then said. 

Here to reign upon our altar, 

Here to listen while we pray, 

And within our hearts reposing 

Steal our thoughts from earth away. 

In that hour of sweet communion, 

Speaking with Him heart to heart, 
We shall beg our loving Savior 
Never, never to depart. 

May He guide and guard you ever 

Safe through all the coming years; 
May He lighten all your labors 
May He banish all your fears. 

Then, as fleeting years speed onward 
And their pages are unrolled, 

May our Heavenly Father’s blessing 
Turn the silver leaves to gold. 




Hist to % HfeUa 


fljlst to the bells in the lofty tower, 

Shaking the air with their silvery shower; 

Courting the ear of the listening breeze, 

The glad message to bear o’er the distant seas. 
Ring out, glad bells! ’tis a theme for mirth! 

Ring out! Ring out! till you wake the earth, 

Yes, ring to the earth, and ring to the sea, 

The news of this glorious Jubilee! 

Now list to the rustle of angels’ wings, 

As the silvery bell in the turret swings; 

And list to the notes of angelic choirs, 

Stooping to earth as they string their lyres 

To join the chorus glad that swells 

From the earth and the sea and the silver bells; 

To join in the song that will never cease 
Of Glory to God, and to good men, peace. 

’T is a song that will swell from shore to shore— 
And whose strains will re-echo forevermore. 

























Zrpljjjra of 3lmtp 


(jj^H, the zephyrs of June are all astir, 

From the Mount to the lowly dell. 

And the perfumed breezes are gay with mirth 
And the blossoms and leaves as well. 

And our own hearts bound with a joyous thrill 
As they merrily rise and swell 
To the silvery chime of angelic rhyme 
Rung out by the Jubilee bell. 

Away on pinions of fancy, 

Through the silv’ry haze of to-day, 

We float in imagination 

To a scene now far away— 

There a young priest low is bending— 

At the holy altar stair, 

While adoring angels tremble 

At the power they may not share. 

Oh, what sacred awe is stealing! 

Oh, what peace beyond compare! 

While the organ deep is pealing 

And all hearts are hushed in prayer. 

Lo, the God of Love is waiting 
For the consecrating birth, 

Which will bring Him down from Heaven 
To our poor but happy earth. 



- v: ' . 






















Oh, the joy of happy parents, 

Brothers, sisters, kinsfolk dear, 
As they list in rapt devotion 
Consecrating word to hear. 

Now they see the God of Heaven 
Helpless in thy trembling hand, 
See the judge of all creation 

Subject to thy least command. 
And at holy altar kneeling 

They receive Him from thy hand. 

Oh, that home of benediction, 

In whose calm and holy bound 
Newer joys are ever brightening 
For a priestly soul is found. 

Blest, thrice blest the happy parents 
Who have borne a child for God. 
But Oh, blest beyond conception 

When that child’s a priest of God. 










JKourtott Qtenturtea After* 


fourteen hundred years and more, 

Have sounded on the eternal shore, 

Since St. Benedict’s banner bright 

Was raised upon Cassino’s height. 
Triumphant there it waved unfurled 
To gaze of an astonished world, 

That banner caught the gazer’s sight 

And winged his soul for heavenly flight, 

Till soon, the desert mountain bare 

Was humming with the voice of prayer. 

Nor peasant poor alone applied, 

But kings were proud to be allied 
To Benedict’s angelic band, 

Whose fame soon spread o’er sea and land. 
All Europe felt the healing power, 

And hailed with joy the happy hour. 

Where Benedict’s blessed footsteps trod 
The souls of all were turned to God. 

The Old World like a garden smiled, 

And Vandal now was docile child. 

Faith’s light illumined life’s dark way, # 

And taught the erring soul to pray 
While sacraments and means of grace 
Were now the boon of every race; 

Full oft the humble convent gate 

Proved fortress stout for Church and State. 



*On the occasion of Rev. Father Matthias’ Silver Jubilee, May, 1921 













42 


But whence got Benedict the power 
To succor in temptation’s hour? 

And whence had Benedict the art, 

To scan the secrets of the heart? 

The holy Abbot’s secret lay, 

In that his soul had learned to pray; 
Through vigils in the lonely tower 

Communed with God—in God his power. 
With God-like sight before him lay 
All future ages in a ray, 

From that far past to our to-day. 


His bounteous soul for all had room; 

From all would turn the evil doom. 
Far-seeing glance and loving ways, 

Soon reached this New World far away, 
Ordained his faithful sons should light 

The fire of Faith mid shades of night. 


The zealous monk obedient came, 

Regardless both of ease and fame 
God’s glory was his sole desire, 

And zeal for souls his bosom’s fire. 

Mid native children of the wild, 

The dauntless monk now fearless toiled. 
And none but God in Heaven can know 
The good accomplished here below. 

Of Faith and Love the rising tide 

Soon broke upon the Kansas side, 

And thence to us the waters spread 

Rekindled hope; made quick the dead. 
Sweet waters from Cassino’s Mount 

Still spring from Benedictine Fount. 

Oh, blest the day when first they came 

And gave “St. Benedict’s” its name. 















Here history does itself repeat 

And leave to us a memory sweet. 

As loving heart is swift to run 

When Heavenly crown is to be won; 

Scholastica, with her brother vied 

Nor could her suit be well denied. 

What brother versed in sacred lore 

Could his own Sister’s plea ignore? 

And blessed boon accorded thus 

Has now descended down to us. 

For through our Alma Mater’s care, 

We in St. Benedict’s teachings share. 

And lapse of years but sets the seal 
On memories fond no time can steal. 

Now, Reverend Jubilarian dear, 

Loved and revered full many a year, 

Your eager children long to tell 

The grateful love they feel so well. 

Thou hast by God to us been given 

To be our guide through earth to Heaven. 

Nor time nor labor hast thou spared; 

Our joys and sorrows thou hast shared. 

And now to sound of Jubilee bell 

We joyous come our love to tell. 

May God in Heaven thy zeal repay, 

In His all-loving bounteous way. 

May health and happiness be thine 
And Silver years to Golden shine. 




















44 


Hit tiff (Slabfa0t of S>pa0mtH 

J[N this, the gladdest of seasons, 

The gladdest of days we keep; 

In the joy of the Easter springtime 

The Shepherd visits his sheep. 

With a gush of heartfelt emotion, 

We welcome our Shepherd dear; 

The mind of the great Creator, 

Ear back in th’ eternal year, 

Conceived the very image 

Of the Shepherd we now revere. 

Again in thy boyhood’s springtime 
He chose thee His own to be; 

And fitted thy soul with graces, 

An angel might envy thee. 

In the glory of manhood’s summer, 

At the altar of God you stood 

With anointed hands to offer 

The Gift of the Precious Blood. 

How oft has the sinner’s ransom 

That Precious Blood obtained! 

How oft at thy feet, the penitent 

The peace of his soul regained! 

But higher graces are ever, 

The reward of a faithful heart; 

And thou, that hast labored truest; 

Hast won a goodly part. 


‘Written on the occasion of the first visit of Rt. Rev. Bishop Ward 
to M.S.S.A. 



Thy reward, the call of the Master, 

His sorrows and labors to share; 

And for His sheep and His lambkins 
To have a father’s care. 

Yes, the way of the Cross is ever 

The way of the chosen soul; 

May He who has called thee to follow, 

Assist thee to reach the goal! 

Oh, may none of the flock consigned to thee 
From their Shepherd in error stray, 

Or cause him a pang of sorrow, 

To silver his hair with gray. 

May the Shepherd and sheep together, 

Thy blessed hill-top gain, 

May the Blood that purpled its summit 
For them not be shed in vain. 

Emblazoned on their escutcheon 

The star of our hope we see; 

In the fold where the Lord is Shepherd 
How safe may the lambkins be! 

Then thanks to our God, who hath sent thee 
Our Shepherd and guide to be; 

To his name be glory forever, 

For the graces bestowed on thee. 

May the angels join in the chorus 

The seraphs their voices lend, 

To praise our God for His three-fold gift; 

Of Bishop, Father, and Friend. 















Alma iHater’s Subtler 


^Lma Mater, on this Fiftieth Anniversary, extends fond 
greetings to her many children, the world over. Yes, 
dear girls, one and all, however widely time and circumstan¬ 
ces may have scattered you, your names are still registered 
at your Convent home—you still hold a place in the heart of 
your Alma Mater. On this, her Golden Jubilee, you again 
pass in spirit through her corridors, your voices re-echo in her 
halls. In spirit, too, she gathers you each and all in the 
well-loved Convent Chapel, where she invokes a plenitude 
of blessing upon you every one. That she may one day meet 
you all in Heaven is her constant, fond, and fervent prayer. 

And now a special greeting and a warm word of thanks 
to the generous loving hearts who have so successfully car¬ 
ried out the beautiful project of perpetuating the memory of 
this feast by furnishing means for placing a bell in the Con¬ 
vent tower to commemorate this Fiftieth Anniversary. 
May our dear Lord grant you, dear Girls, His choicest bene¬ 
diction. You have made the Bell Fund a success. The 
Convent tower will boast as weighty and sonorous a bell as 
its strength will permit, and that, as soon as its endurance is 
determined and the bell can be procured. 
















3 lutgU> 

1913 will soon be here, 

Alma Mater’s Jubilee year. 

What shall we her children do, 

To pledge our love and prove it too? 
M. S. S’s glory dwells 
In her many golden belles. 

Let these golden belles ring true. 
Now, a golden belle are you? 

Alma Mater’s bell-tower stands 
Silent on her sun-kissed lands— 

Not, for want of hands to ring 
But no bell is there to swing. 

Shall the old tower silent stand, 

On a festival so grand? 

No, let’s join in, one and all, 

As we hear our Mother’s call. 

We once made her halls to ring; 

Now we’ll make the old tower sing. 
One and all our mite bestow, 

Where there’s “push” there’s always 
But, if ere this, your duty’s done, 
Smile “God speed,” and send it one. 
If ’tis not, the time is full; 

Give the “Jubilee Bell” a pull. 























®o tlfp IpII ®otopr 


essed mission hast thou bell-tower; 
Holy mission has thy bell; 
Raised above our field of labor, 

Of a better world to tell. 


Thine a mission sweet and holy, 

Earthly feelings to refine, 
Till those fleeting labors lowly 

Echo back the love Divine. 


Ring the greeting of the angel— 

Sweetest strains on earth e’er heard— 

The great God become incarnate, 

At the speaking of a word. 

Eloat it out upon the starlight; 

Those loved words the angel spake; 

Eloat it out upon the sunlight, 

Till our hearts to love awake. 

Ave! Ave! sing it loudly, 

Bring us back again the strain 

Of that Peace so dearly purchased— 
Bought at such excess of pain. 

Sing it through the spreading branches 
Of the blossom-laden trees; 

Bear it out upon the pennons 

Of the perfume-laden breeze. 

Ave! Ave! Oh, the gladness 

Borne to earth that blessed day! 

Teach, Oh, teach our earth-bound spirits 
How to soar, and how to pray. 
















Ave! Ora! waft it softly, 

To the dying sinner’s ear, 

Till the icy heart is melted 

Into sweet repentant tear. 

Ave! Ora! greet us ever, 

Morning light and setting sun, 
Blend the “Ora et Tabora” 

Till at last Heaven’s prize is won. 


So tlj? (Earner 


old Tower, Thy voice now raise! 
In a peal of joyous praise; 

For like sainted seer of old, 

Thou hast found a tongue of gold. 


Tribute meet then gladly bring, 

And thy Benedictus sing. 

Sound! Oh, sound, with voice of glee, 
This, our Golden Jubilee! 


























(Hljp ®mupr J^peaka 

j^Weet Golden Belles of M. S. S. A., 

Let me have a word to say. 

My heart beats high, my hopes are new, 

And I owe this joy to you. 

Blessings on you, old and young, 

Lor you’ve blessed me with a tongue! 
Silent long I’ve waited here, 

Thank God, and you, for Jubilee Year. 




Stye Sell 

, Hanks, kind friends who’ve placed me here 
I wish you all glad Jubilee Year! 

May the “mite” so freely given 
Aid me to ring you into Heaven. 
















Amuurraanj 

GDf tljr Jffmmbtng of lilt. 0t. ^diolaisttra 

Allowed seed of Blessed Tree! 

Planted, Father loved, by thee 
In the sunny Italy 

On thy fair Cassino’s height 
Thence to shed a blissful light. 

Didst thou, from the mountain height, 

See within that ray of light, 

Thy fair Order’s distant flight, 

To this rude and changeful clime, 

All unknown in thy far time? 

Didst thou, from Cassino’s tower, 

See the hidden happy hour 
When that priceless, lasting dower, 

Saved thro’ ages long by thee 
Should bless this Country of the Free? 

Didst thou see this home of ours, 

Far remote from land of flowers, 

And of grand cathedral towers? 

Yet standing beauteous in the light, 
Streaming from Cassino’s height. 

This fair cloister, named with love, 

Sacred to Cassino’s Dove, 

Looks in faith to thee above; 

Begs thine aid and hers, to pay 
Debt of fifty years to-day. 

Fifty years of bounteous share, 

In her Heavenly Father’s care, 







Like sweet answer to a prayer. 

Teach, Oh, teach us how we may 
All this loving care repay. 

Small the seed, and rough the soil; 

Long the years of care and toil; 

Hard the round of ceaseless moil; 

Ere our early Founders’ seven* 

Had reared for us this Way of Heaven. 

Oh, those fifty changeful years 
Oft were wet with dew of tears, 

Wrung by most unselfish fears! 

By our saintly Mother shed,** 

Ere the future could be read. 

Now those vanished years do shine 
Pregnant of a love divine, 

While their incidents combine 
In a sweetly mystic sense, 

Showing special Providence. 

Golden Jubilee of years! 

Happy rosary of tears! 

Sweetly incense-breathing fears! 

You have borne us o’er the foam, 

Nearer to our Heavenly home. 

Cherished Patron, holy Dove! 

By thy pure and mighty love, 

Lure our hearts to things above, 

With St. Benedict and thee, 

To keep Eternal Jubilee. 


*The first seven Sisters who came to Atchison, Kansas. 

**Mother Evangelista 












Alma Ulalw’s ilubtlw 


^Tneteen-thirteen now is hailing 
Alma Mater’s Jubilee, 

Proudly counting all her triumphs 
Since the days of Sixty-three. 

For her ’scutcheon ne’er was brighter 
Than on this her festal day, 

As she dons her golden armor— 

Prize of many a well-fought fray. 

While the North and South were warring 
In the days of civil strife, 

Her fair standard here she planted 
On this fresh, broad field of life. 

What though clouds,were dark and lowering 
And the future fraught with toil! 

With a mother’s fond affection 
She prepared the virgin soil. 

Fifty changeful years have drifted 
O’er the turgid tide of time, 

But they harmed not her foundation 
Resting firm on truth sublime. 

Now in more than regal glory 

Gleam her towers on sun-kissed mount, 
Like a mighty monarch’s fortress 

Keeping watch o’er learning’s fount. 





















54 


Bravely from her safe enclosure 

With sweet charm of Convent grace, 
Have her daughters fair departed— 
Eager hope in every face. 

Rosy June-tide sees them going 
Year by year, a chosen band, 
Bearing with them for life’s journey 
Flowers to bless their native land. 

Then all hail! sweet Alma Mater 
On this feast of feasts for you! 
Faithful hearts with gladsome greeting 
Pledge you their allegiance true. 

May the crown you now are wearing, 
Brighter grow as years glide on, 
Every year bright jewels adding 
Till in Heaven we meet as one. 



55 


Ea M. &>. g>. A. 



4 jt Aven of innocence, Home of our youth, 

Shrine of devotion, of honor and truth; 

Throned on the Mount mid a halo of light, 

Crowned with a garland of memories bright. 
Fostering Mother of life’s flowery May, 

List to the song of thy children to-day, 

Singing of school time, its smiles and its tears— 
Joys whose remembrance will brighten with years. 

REFRAIN— 

Then here’s to happy school days, 

To study and to play, 

To friendships staunch and loyal 
At good M. S. S. A. 

Oh> blest be the days that we spent at the Mount, 
Drinking sweet truths at thy glorious fount, 
Learning a wisdom to sages unknown— 

Nothing is lasting but virtue alone! 

“Ora, Labora’’ thy motto so fair, 

Shielding our lives from temptation and care, 
Loving contentment and freedom from guile, 
Shaping the lives that grew up ’neath thy smile. 



REFRAIN— 


Then here’s to Alma Mater, 


Our girlhood friend and stay! 
I’m proud to be your daughter, 


Dear old M. S. S. A. 


♦Composed at the request of Sister Scholastica and set to music 
by her as a school song. 



$t. fHttrttn ’0 lag, 1321 

(To Rt. Rev. Abbot Martin, 0. S. B.) 

H A y St. Martin in his glory, 

Heavenly portals open wide; 

And the happy angels scatter 

Flowers of grace on every side. 

May this shower of fragrant blossoms 
Brighten all your life’s long way, 
Till a burst of heavenly splendor 
Ushers in Eternal Day. 


(grrrtttuja to 2fett. fHotljer Alopia* 

(l^Reetings fond, loved Reverend Mother, 
From your grateful children here; 

For though absent, all are with you, 

On this festal day so dear. 

Yes, dear Mother, at the altar 

Distance flees; and those who roam 

In the Sacred Heart united, 

Meet again, and are at home. 

May that Sacred Heart remember, 

All your care and toil and fear, 

In His mercy, spare you heartache; 

In His goodness lend an ear, 

To the grateful prayers we offer 
On this blessed day so fair; 

May He grant you every blessing, 

Is our humble heartfelt prayer. 


*On her Name Day from her absent children at Creighton Summer 
School. 



World fllrarr* 


Q^Here was joy in the Ark 

On that beautiful day, 

When the meek dove returned 

With the green olive spray. 

’T was a token of love 

For the children of God, 

And it spoke of release 

From the chastening rod. 

May the dove come again 

With the emblem of peace, 

And the Father of all 

Bid earth’s discords to cease. 

May the Spirit of Love 

Usher in the bright day, 

When the nations of earth 
Will this Spirit obey. 

Tien peace and good will, 

Earth’s proud sceptre shall sway 
And peace, founded on virtue, 

Forever will stay. 


♦On the occasion of the Peace Parley by the Class of 1922. 






















58 


(Enmmpttrowttt Sag* 

A T last Thou’rt here, Commencement Day! 
The cherished goal is won, 

Which lured us on o’er toilsome way— 
Was life’s transcendent sun. 

Oh, what a charm thy vista shed 
O’er all the years to be— 

Enchanting place and time and toil, 
With visions sweet of thee. 

What brighter future could we paint 
Than this which now appears, 

To place the graduation crown 
On our scholastic years? 

Thou’rt here! yet, we must pause awhile 
Communing, ere we part, 

With joys and fears which now conflict 
In every throbbing heart. 

For though thy presence fair we see, 

Thy radiant face is hid. 

Beneath a mist, which shrouds the view, 
As tears well up unbid. 

The past so loved we know full well— 
What may the future bring? 

Ah, well—we’ll trust it all to God, 

And to his mercy cling. 

His arm upholds the universe— 

The mighty and the mean, 

Oh, may his mercy guide and guard 
The “Class of Seventeen.” 


♦Composed on request of the Class of Seventeen. 




Ualrtitrtorg 

^jffOnd farewell, loved Alma Mater, 

We must leave thy hallowed walls; 

Take our places in the army, 

Face the fray, where duty calls. 

But before we part, sweet Mother, 
Here we pledge our love to you. 

May our lives be faithful ever 

To your teachings good and true. 

Our young lives, till now so sheltered 
Safe within thy sacred shrine, 

All alone must bear the onset, 

Far from shelt’ring hand of thine. 

Yet in spirit, Alma Mater, 

We shall always hover near, 

Like the child, whose falt’ring footsteps 
Seeks its mother’s hand in fear. 

Ah, full oft with grateful yearning, 
When life’s burdens sore we feel, 

Shall our hearts in sweet remembrance 
To your quiet precincts steal. 

Oh, we beg, fond Alma Mater, 

In your heart to keep a place 

For your eager children ever, 

When before the Throne of Grace. 

When before the altar kneeling, 

Close to Him whose love we share, 

Ask Him ever to remember, 

Those committed to your care. 















990Ipp 

60 


'r . .V 


(Bolton Hriitong 3lnbilee* 

I. Presentation 

the sunlight of God’s blessing 

Make bright this happy day, 
And this simple mark of friendship 
To its gladness lend a ray. 

II. Reminiscence 

tober’s mellow sunlight 

Gilds up with golden glow, 

A happy scene enacted 

Some fifty years ago. 

Full fifty fruitful autumns 

Unite this blessed day, 

To crown with golden halo, 

The youthful years of May. 

Oh, the treasures grace has garnered 
In these fifty faithful years! 
For the golden harvest, ever 

Is the meed of toil and tears. 


Oh, the joy that not an erring 

Son or daughter, dims the ray 
Of the bright October sunlight 

On this fiftieth Golden Day. 

Sweetest solace, soothing heart’s ease, 

Duteous children bring to-day, 

And your children’s children bless you 
On this Golden Jubilee Day. 

*On the occasion of the golden wedding jubilee of Mr. and Mrs. 
Patrick McAnany. 



6i 


Prtmttj Mreatlj 

On Presenting the Primitz Wreath to a Young 

Priest* on the occasion of his 
first Holy Mass 

JjEar Reverend Father: 

Glad hearts are bringing you 
Bride crown of May, 

Woven of fairest flowers 

For Nuptial Day— 

Nuptials with Holy Church— 

Joy for us all— 

Best pledge of Heaven’s love 
Since Adam’s Fall. 

What tho’ these blossoms hide 
Thorns deep and long! 

He who has chosen Thee, 

Will make Thee strong— 

Strong to endure and die 

For His sweet sake, 

Who drained sin’s bitter cup 

Love’s thirst to slake. 

His crown was deeply dyed 
In Crimson Flood; 

Its touch will hallow thine 

With Saving Blood. 

Long may His blessing’s prove 
Fruitful in thee, 

And their glad echoes ring 
Eternally. 


*The Rev. James Burns, O. S. B. 























(gleams Jffrom passing dlnries 

Ark to the bells as they peal so gay, 

Out on the air of the gladsome May! 

Out in the sunshine so softly bright, 

Thrilling our souls with a new delight, 

Calling our thoughts from the things of time 
To the loftier theme of a life sublime. 

Hark to the message so glad they tell, 

As their jubilant chimes, now rise and swell. 

Telling to angels and telling to men 
’T is jubilee golden, of five times ten; 

And the gentle years of the past obey 
Bearing tribute of worth for this happy day; 
While our hearts join in with the jubilant lay 
Of the bells and the flowers and the springtime gay. 

Hark to the bells as they peal again! 

Weaving the years in a golden chain; 

Bringing memories bright of a cherished past— 
Tokens endeared, of gifts that last; 

Treasures, defying the touch of time— 

Triumph of grace in a life sublime. 

There mid the music and chant of psalms— 

The oil still fresh on his sacred palms, 

The wonderful chrism upon his brow— 

Stands a priest full true to his priestly vow. 

Ring the glad bells, till they rock the towers; 

Gather the bloom from the fairest flowers; 

Fill the sweet censer with incense rare; 

Raise the glad voices in praiseful prayer, 

For the countless graces of God to men, 



63 


In this Jubilee golden of five times ten. 

What priceless wealth do those years unfold, 
From the Primitz Wreath to the Crown of Gold! 

Chaplet of years on a chain of gold, 

Perfumed with graces so manifold! 

Beads that were molded of sorrow and tears, 
Glories and joys of the brighter years. 

Oh, ’tis a crown that a God might wear, 

For the lasting worth of its gems so rare. 


©ruination 

A T the holy altar, 

Gladly here to-day, 

Loving hearts assemble, 

Tribute meet to pay. 

Happy thine espousals 

With Holy Church thy Bride— 

Furthering the mission, 

For which Jesus died. 

Children’s voices blending, 

Join the happy lay; 

For all Heaven rejoices 
On this Bridal Day. 

Primitz wreath is white, 

May it silver be; 

And the golden light, 

Show richer yet for thee. 

















64 


Comfort 


|||Hen the day seems overcrowded, 

And the heart sinks in despair, 

When the sun of hope is clouded 

And a night gloom everywhere, 

Fan, Oh, fan Faith’s dying embers 
Smold’ring still behind the bars, 
Blest is he who then remembers 

That ’tis night brings out the stars. 

When the clouds of sorrow darken 

Where bright sunlight played before, 
Draw aside the screen and hearken; 

God is waiting at your door. 

Yes, he waits; and Oh, how gladly 
Would He spare the cruel scars, 

But His mercy knows how badly 

We need night to bring the stars. 

’T is in love He sends the twilight; 

’T is in love He dims the glare 
Of the blinding earthly love-light, 

Our poor hearts so fain would share. 
Look aloft, beyond the cloud-line, 

That in mist enshrouds life’s spars, 
Bless the Hand that rules the tempest, 
And has numbered all the stars. 

Would He send the blinding darkness 
And the seven-fold furnace heat, 

Had He not in loving kindness, 

Meant to bring you to His feet? 
















65 


Friendships brighten, Faith grows clearer, 
With a splendor nothing mars; 

Life is nobler; God is nearer, 

When the night brings out the stars. 

Stars of hope and long endurance 
Stars of virtue truth and right, 

Stars of loving sweet assurance— 

All are born of some dark night. 
Prophets, saints, and martyrs, tearless, 
Sweetly smile through prison bars, 
For their gaze all calm and fearless, 
Looks to Light beyond the stars. 


























Sprays from §>Utier attb (Snliipn lays 


J^Ells are ringing, 
Censers swinging, 
Glad hearts singing 


’Tis a Silver Day 
And our hearts are gay, 
As we gladly pay 


Love’s tribute meet. 


Jubilate Deo. 


May the simple garland, 

Love has twined for thee, 
As a sunbeam brighten 

All the days to be; 

And as still the future. 

Gently is unrolled, 

May its silv’ry pages, 

Turn to richest gold. 


May your Feast Day be bright 

As the sun’s morning beams; 

And the future bring light 

Far outstretching your dreams. 


May the New Year bring the answer 
To the prayers of all the Past 
And the flowers of friendship brighten 
On life’s pathway to the last. 


Just a simple cluster, 

Of grateful immortelles 
Gathered on the hillsides, 

And in the shady dells 
Bound by willing fingers, 

With love’s ribbon true— 
Token of the reverent love 

Your children bear to you. 












67 


After iFiftg fears 

>Weet bells are ringing, 

Glad hearts are singing 

Glory to God for His mercy and love. 

With swift pinions winging, 

Bright angels are bringing 

Gifts for the feast, from our Father above. 

Sad earth rejoices, 

As heavenly voices 

Tune its low chant to the sweet strains of Heaven. 
Fist to the rapturous strain! 

Join in the glad refrain! 

Praise we our God for the grace He has given. 


Graces of vanished years! 

Seed sown in toil and tears! 

Yielding bright harvest of glory and peace. 
Bless we those vanished years, 

Banishing servile fears, 

Join in the chorus that never will cease. 


U|AY the joyful Christmas 

And the happy year to be, 
Find a gladsome echo 
Throughout eternity. 


May joy be yours 
This Easter Day; 
Your life be bright, 
Your heart be gay. 


# 

ril 





May memories fond, 
Your thoughts entwine 
And guide your pen 
To write a line. 



Accept: 



This little card with a wish of mine 

For a happy Easter to thee and thine; 
May sweet May flowers and sunshine gay 
Spring up along your Heavenward way. 

§>tloer Subtiff 

||Y an alchemy divine 

Primitz flowers now si@r shine; 

May rich graces manifold, 

Turn the silver leaves to gold. 

Watting 

N sunshine or rain, 

In joy or in pain; 

In sickness or health 
In want or in wealth, 

One cry calls to Thee, 

My fond Father, from me 
’Tis make me, O make me, 

Forever to be 
Whatever Thy Wisdom 

Didst mean me to be. 






















Despite the vain pride, 

And the fears that deride; 
Despite even the sin, 

And the dark thoughts within, 

I stand waiting the hour 
When Thy merciful Power 
Will yet set this will free 

Till it cares naught to see 
But forever to be, 
Whatever thy Wisdom 

Didst mean it to be. 

Let life be a dirge, 

Or a triumphal march, 

Be the key high or low, 

The time rapid or slow— 

What matters it all 
So I follow Thy call? 

’T will be joy in full store, 

’T will be bliss evermore. 

To feel and to know, 

That wherever I go, 

I’ve at last come to be, 

The identical me 

My God in His mercy, 

Had meant me to be. 






70 


Jin tljp J§>arr*& Sbart nf ifcaua 

IS surely a bitter sorrow* 

You are called upon to bear; 

Fond memory quickens the sharpness 

Of the crown your brow must wear. 

But the way of the cross is ever 
The way of the chosen soul, 

And our footsteps must follow bravely 
If at last we would reach the goal. 

’T is sorrow that marks the way He trod 
And that makes us like to Him, 

’T is anguish that draws us close to God, 

In Whose light our troubles grow dim. 

The love of a mother is very sweet, 

And we well know how tender and true, 

Yet what is e’en that to the love of God? 

His love for your mother and you. 

He knows full well the why and how 

From the source to the blissful end, 

So lovingly leave it all to Him, 

What His Fatherly Hand shall send. 

Just nestle quite close to His Sacred Heart, 
Your loved mother is hidden there; 

You’ll see her again in a brighter home, 
Unclouded by sorrow or care. 


*Written at the request of Sister Florentina for her nephews on the 
tragic death of their beloved Mother, Mrs. Anna Bradley. 



71 


A (Smiling J^tar 

©Here ’s a sacred spot on the hillside low, 

Where shadows linger, and violets grow; 

Where the birds sing soft, through the summer day 
And the odorous air is sweet with May. 

*T is the holy place where our dear ones rest, 

The crucifix clasped to each faithful breast; 

With meek eyes closed and with folded arms, 
Unheeding life’s din and its fierce alarms. 

The cross, with the green mounds clustering round 
Proclaims the place to be holy ground; 

While the gentle face of the Crucified 
Breathes hope to the souls for whom He died. 

Oh, this garden of ours is a garden rare, 

And precious the treasures garnered there. 

There are lives like lilies, as pure as snow; 

There are rosebuds culled ere the bloom could blow. 

There are odorous lives whose hopeful bloom 
Lies folded away in the silent tomb. 

There are tranquil lives, which like shady trees 
Sheltered the faint from the tainting breeze. 

There are lives whose touch, like the river’s tide, 
Cleansed and revived and sanctified. 

There are lives, which bright as the Pharos shone 
Lighting the way of the wanderer lone. 

Neath that lowly mound at the Savior’s side 
Lies our Foundress, Bride of the Crucified.* 

Like the Loved disciple her joy has been 
A place at the foot of the Cross to win. 


*Rev. Mother Evangelista 






’T is here that her children love to pray, 

And the tribute of grateful love to pay; 

While a gentle voice from the sculptured stone 
Bids us labor and live for God alone. 

In this green mound lies one too frail* 

To weather the gusts of life’s rude gale, 

The triple bonds were but newly tied, 

Ere the Bridegroom called for His youthful bride. 
Oh, the bitter anguish my lone heart felt, 

When first at that new-made grave I knelt, 

But the years have hallowed the cruel scar, 

And transformed it into a guiding star. 

Ah, yes, there are lives both of young and old, 

And the lessons they teach are manifold; 

For the brief endurance of toil below, 

There’s bliss surpassing what mind can know. 
That pain and toil are the coin that pay 
For the crown we hope to wear one day. 

Our Bridegroom’s crown was of sharpest thorn— 
So ours, if we wish for the Easter Morn. 

When life cares press and our hopes are dumb, 

To this peaceful spot, we may always come; 

Eet us learn the lesson these mute lips teach, 

And garner the treasures within our reach. 

The wounded heart at the tomb is healed, 

And the lips to the murm’ring word are sealed. 
What matters it now when all is told— 

The honeyed phrase, or the accent cold. 

Alike they pass as an April gust, 

At the sight of the tomb and its silent dust. 

The heart soars up to where conflicts cease, 

And eternal Justice reigns in peace. 


*Sister M. Mildred, sister of the authoress. 





&l}tnta tiff &rot ao $rigl)t (En-liag? 

HY shines the sun so bright today? 

And why this festive air? 

When chill November beams like this, 

There must be festal rare. 

But brighter than the glorious sun, 

And warmer than its rays, 

Beams out the joy all hearts reveal, 

Wells up the hymn of praise. 

For, Oh, what bliss the message bears, 

To every faithful heart! 

Our Father comes from o’er the seas, 

His blessing to impart. 

From far Cassino’s mountain height 
And Sant’ Anselmo’s shrine, 

Comes Abbot Hildebrand revered, 

Of Benedictine line. 


He comes with hands all teeming, 
With graces rich and rare, 

Gleaned at the Benedictine Fount 
Of labor and of prayer. 

He comes e’en from the lofty Tower 
Where Benedict loved to pray— 
The favored spot which showed to him, 
All earth within a ray. 


*OnNov. 18,1911. Right Reverend Hildebrand deHemptinne, Abbot 
Primate of the Benedictine Order, paid an official visit to Mt. St. 
Scholastica’s and bestowed the Papal Benediction, by favor of His 
Holiness Pius X. The scheme of decoration was the Sunflower. 


M 
















Ah well! May not that beauteous light 
Have shown this blessed day, 

When here in far Columbia, 

Fond hearts their homage pay 
To him, who from St. Peter’s dome, 
That Pharos pure and bright, 

Brings tidings glad to cheer the earth 
Dispel the shades of night? 

He comes to greet Columbia, 

Fair Church’s youngest daughter; 
He comes to bless her happy soil, 

To bless the Faith Rome taught her. 
Ah! happier still! he brings to us, 

Rude children of the West, 

Fond greetings from our Fatherland— 
The kindhest and best. 

Then Hail, loved Abbot! Thee we bid 
A Kansas welcome here; 

For Kansas owes to Thee and Thine 
A grateful debt and dear. 

’Twas sons of thine, who early came 
Our fainting hearts to cheer; 

To nurse the waning light of Faith 
And make its message clear. 

A drought more dire than dearth of rain, 
Had struck our famished fold.— 

Had not thy zealous followers come, 

Like Benedict of old, 

To clear our rugged prairie land, 

And till the virgin soil, 

All barren of eternal worth, 

Had been our arduous toil. 























75 


Ah yes! those monks were fearless men, 
Unselfish tried and true, 

They shared our rude log-cabin fare, 

As though ‘twas nothing new. 

On Indian pony o’er the plain, 

Their toilsome way they made. 

Their rest at noon or night was ta’en 
Beneath the wild tree’s shade. 

Of section house and cabin rude, 

A sacred shrine they made, 

Where Bethlehem and Calvary 
The pilgrim’s toil repaid. 

Within the rude unplastered walls 
Adoring toilers knelt 

While Heaven was held that happy day 
Within a railroad tent. 

The fearless monk e’er followed the trail 
Of the dauntless pioneer, 

While the sunflowers gaily nodded, 

And smiled their “Welcome here!” 

And all along our highways still 
Those faithful wardens smile— 

Their message as cheery as ever, 

To brighten the weary smile. 

And now loved Abbot Primate, dear, 

Accept our homely flower; 

’Twill lend the homeliest welcome 
To grace this happy hour. 

For the cheery flower by the Kansas way, 

Is a bloom with heart of gold; 

And this sunflower tall, with its brown eye true 
Hides a wealth of love untold. 











Yes, the sunflower bright, with its smiling face, 
Is the ; flower of the Kansas home; 

As it keeps its eye on the lord of day, 

So our hearts will turn to Rome. 

And now, loved Father, we beg Thee take 
Our Kansas flower so fair, 

And lay it humbly at the feet 

Of Christ’s loved vicar, there. 

’Twill be our pledge to Him and Thee, 

That we will ever faithful be. 






















77 


"JJrmrtitebtt Inmtnua”* 

(jj^’ER October’s golden sunlight, 
Sudden falls a fleeting shade, 

One whose passing only hallows 

The bright scene by autumn laid. 

Bright October’s ripened harvests, 

Glowing woods, and tranquil skies, 
Blest by southern-going sunsets 
Seem thine end to symbolize. 


Nothing sad is—naught untimely, 

In fond Nature’s pageant fair— 

All is glory—glad, triumphant, 

As her gorgeous rites declare. 

Yes, loved Father, this grand season 
Well befits Thy blessed end; 

For like nature, too, Thy footsteps, 

E’er on duty’s path did tend. 

Dawning sunrise, glowing noontide 
And life’s slow descending sun— 

All were true to one grand motto: 
“Ford, Thy holy will be done.” 

Now, thy golden sun, in setting, 

Lights for us a picture grand, 

While in tearful admiration, 

At Time’s gateway, here we stand. 




















Gazing back in admiration, 

At Thy silent life of love— 

Meekly toiling in the “Vineyard” 

While Thy soul communed above. 

Who will count the cares and trials, 

On Thy youthful shoulders laid, 
When Rome’s missive did confirm Thee 
In the choice so wisely made? 

Crown of thorns, he e’er must carry, 
Deeply pressed on aching brow, 

E’er he earn the crown of glory, 

Thou so fitly wearest now. 

Since that fair October morning, 
Six-and-forty years ago, 

Only God can count Thy labors, 

Only He their worth can know. 

Zealous Father, kind Instructor, 

Gentle Guide of erring soul, 

Who in grateful song shall bless Thee, 
While the years eternal roll. 

Now, that Thou art safe in Heaven, 

Pray for us loved Abbot, dear, 
Draw our thoughts to brighter vision 
Than this fleeting life of fear. 

Motto fair on Thine escutcheon— 
“Providebit Dominus”— 

Solaced Thee mid care and anguish; 

Beg like blessing now for us. 

Yes, Thy motto proved prophetic, 

True as Nature to her art, 

























mmm 


God has blest Thee with successor— 
Man according to Thy heart 

On the Abbey’s sacred hill-top, 

Sweetly slumber mongst thine own, 
Whilst Thy spirit zealous watches 

O’er the seed Thy hand has sown. 

When the final trumpet sounding, 
Calls on earth to yield her spoil, 
Then the world will see the harvest— 
Fruit of thine incessant toil. 











































8o 



Jn Ufemoriam 

>ON of bright Bohemia, 

That beauteous home of art! 

Thou wast true to nature, 

Brave and glad of heart. 

Gentle as a sister, 

Guileless as a child 

Fearless as a veteran, 

As a mother mild. 

Just in all thy dealings, 

Friend to all who knew; 

Martyr, monk, and Pastor, 

To each duty true. 

Fife to thee was nothing, 

Save on service bent; 

Wooing toil and danger, 

Thy fruitful life was spent. 

Peril gave no warning 

That thy soul would heed— 

Self-forgetful ever, 

In a brother’s need. 

Treacherous waters daring, 

At cry of drowning lad, 

Heedless of the issue, 

In thy service glad. 

Loyal to thy confreres, 

First where duty led. 

Self-forgetful ever, 

Even until death, 


*In grateful remembrance of Reverend Father Adalbert Blahnik, 
O.S.B., who died October 15th, 1922. 


















L, 


Thoughtful still for others, 

To thy latest breath. 

Ah, that in cruel torture 

Should end such life of love! 
Silently we wonder, 

As we raise our eyes above. 
Lawrence smiling answers, 

From his fiery bed, 

And John from off the prison block 
Where lies his severed head. 

This fleeting earthly sorrow, 

Sweet Lethe’s wave will drown; 
And fleeting toil and anguish 

Weave bright eternal crown. 

Oh, may thy crown, loved Father, 
Among the martyrs shine, 

And peace and joy celestial 
For evermore be thine. 





M 






















Parting £>ottg 

The years their wonted vigil keep, 
The parting hour is nigh; 

Fond memories start from silent sleep 
And wake the slumbering sigh. 

Soon Time will draw his shadowy veil 
O’er all we cherish here, 

While ruthless winds and stormy gale 
Will strive our course to veer. 

Chorus — 

’Neath banner bright of blue and white 
We stand with courage royal, 

And in its sight we pledge our plight 
To be forever loyal. 

Upon the Mount where sunlight smiled 
There falls a shade to-day; 

The rainbow tints that once beguiled 
Have toned to sombre gray. 

’Tis sad to feel what tender ties 
This chosen day must sever; 

’Tis sad to bid the fond good-byes 
That last, perhaps, forever. 

Chorus — 

But come what may, our banner gay 
Shall ever be unfurled. 

’T will lead alway in Truth’s clear ray 
A better life to herald. 
































































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Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724) 779-2111 














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